


Cross my heart and twice I'll die; can't follow me, don't even try

by alchemicalTyphoon



Series: Bound Souls [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Deal with a Devil, Heavy Angst, Original Character Death(s), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21790819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemicalTyphoon/pseuds/alchemicalTyphoon
Summary: Absolute power corrupts; Asra has seen it happen right in front of him. He doesn't recognise them anymore. But when he calls out to them one last time and he sees a glimpse of their old self, and decides to take matters in his own hands.Inspired by an ask on tumblr user vesuviannights about an apprentice breaking bad and striking a deal with the Devil.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana)
Series: Bound Souls [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613980
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	Cross my heart and twice I'll die; can't follow me, don't even try

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vesuviannights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesuviannights/gifts).



> Listen. Don't judge me and my angst ¯\\_(ツ;)_/¯! Just read it and let yourself get emotionally scarred by more unnecessary angst ;).

"Sssh..." Asra's voice was raspy, hoarse from disuse, but he still called out their name. Gently, quietly, over and over, even as he held their arms down at the wrists, and they were struggling in a panic to stay alive. But they couldn't break from his hold, honed after years of staining his hands with blood because they'd asked him to, and him being too in love to deny them their requests. And now he was staining his hands with the blood of his last victim.

When the movements started to subside, he scraped his throat, swallowing. "I can't watch you destroy yourself, and do nothing." He presses a kiss on their forehead as they weakly coughed up specks of blood against his throat. "But don't worry. I would-- _will_ follow you anywhere. Because I know you don't like to be alone", he croaked, pressing a kiss against their bloody lips. "And I love you too much to let you go alone a second time."

Their heartbeats became faint, and they had stopped struggling, but their eyes were still fixed on him. He could hear the wheezing of their breath, the blood bubbling around the deep gash in their throat. He slowly eased up, but kept one hand on their wrist, feeling their pulse slow to a crawl. Asra's smile was pained, reassuring, and determined. He kept eye contact, as he pressed the blade of his dagger against his own artery, before he stabbed himself. He didn't feel the pain as much as he felt the sticky, hot blood glide down his throat and slither down his skin. He'd opted for his artery because it would be quicker. Maybe he would even die before them. Then they wouldn't have to wait for him on the other side; he'd already be there, welcoming them.

He caught himself before his arms gave way, lying down next to them. He could already feel the effects the blood loss had on him, and heaved their warm, limp body on top of him. With shaking hands, he managed to place their head in the crook of his neck. Asra got a hold of one of their hands, and just barely managed to kiss their fingertips, before he wrapped his other arm around their waist. Warm blood was making his bare chest wet and sticky, and the added weight also made breathing harder for him, but he wanted them comfortable and cared for in their last moments. And they did always say this was their favourite cuddling position,... and who was he to deny them a last hug.

There was no telling how long they lay there. His grip on them was slipping, as his life faded. Asra closed his eyes, feeling drained. It wouldn't be long before Vesuvia would once more be peaceful. No more tyrants. No more mute magical assassins killing every dissenter... Just peace...

He should have done this years ago, he thought. So many lives lost, because he was a coward who couldn't, _wouldn_ 't live without them. He hated how much the Devil's powers had warped them from the sweet, caring, and kind person they used to be, into this _monster_. Yet... they were still there. Very deep within. He'd caught a glimpse of them when he called out their name, and that had spurred him to act, to try and preserve what was left of them as he remembered. Before they gave up on themself to save him, all those years ago.

But... something wasn't right... his breathing was starting to improve, he didn't feel drained any more! His eyes flew open. The blood in his veins turned into ice and he felt like the ground was swallowing him up. He could see their magic, as bright as the sun at noon.

"No, no, no no no...", he whispered, horrified. His hand shot up, and he felt their cooling fingers, barely grazing his neck. There was a second bright flicker and swirl of magic in the air, and he _felt_ it. Something powerful; one he knew no-one would be able to break.

He sat up, carefully propping them so he could see their face, clutching their hand.

"Why?" The question was inaudible, but they'd heard him loud and clear. They were still there. They blinked slowly, a small wistful smile ghosting their lips. They weakly traced something in his palm, but he didn't need to look to know it was a small heart. The same gesture they used to draw on each other's skin after they'd kiss, after they made love at night. Before they'd died. 

~~~

Vesuvia knew exactly when the Devil's Tyrant shed their mortal coil. The whole city felt lighter, as if the very air to the deepest basements had been purified in one fell swoop. Everyone breathed lighter. Even the birds started to sing again. Tentative at first, but bolder with each note.

And Asra knew when it happened, because the mark on his chest glowed intensely and disappeared. He knew when it happened, because his heart suddenly, briefly, felt whole again. He knew what they had thought of in their last moments when they'd reached out to heal and curse him, that they'd hoped he would forgive them for it as they had forgiven him for bringing them back. He knew what the price was that the Devil had asked in exchange for power.

The Devil wanted them to hand over what they loved most: him. They could hand him over whenever they wanted. But they never did. Instead, they had warded him with their strongest protection spell, one of their own make. Boosted by the Devil's own powers, not even a Major Arcana could break it now. He was shaken to the core by the realisation they hadn't upheld their end of the contract. And that meant they were lost, their soul in the hands of the Devil for reneging on their deal. He wouldn't be able to bring them back again, not this time.

And he was torn asunder by the realisation that because of the insane amount of power they'd poured into the spell, they'd effectively made him immortal... he wouldn't be able to follow them.

Ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this ask... buuut I took some artistic liberties with it because you can never have enough angst eh? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Feel free to yell at/with me :D!


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